


I Was Born in a Factory

by nightanddaze



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Comfort Sex, M/M, Nipple Play, Nursing Kink, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 21:32:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2041008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightanddaze/pseuds/nightanddaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve doesn't let him down, easy or otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Was Born in a Factory

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [singlesrvngfrend](http://archiveofourown.org/users/singlesrvngfrend/pseuds/singlesrvngfrend) for betaing this. Title from “Steam Engenius” by Modest Mouse. 
> 
> P.S. I have a [tumblr](http://nightanddaze.tumblr.com/) \- come hang out!

She lets him down easy. He’s not surprised. Maggie’s a nice gal, nicer than he probably deserves. They had a good thing going, but it was a good summer thing, and Bucky didn’t really think it would last, nice as it was. Girls like that had better things to do in life than him.

It still smarts though, watching her walk away from him. He rubs his jaw as he walks home, like she slugged him.

Steve’s reading a book at the table when Bucky lets himself in. Steve glances up from his book, takes one look at him and says, “Bucky. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky says, rubbing his jaw again and flexing his shoulder. Shaking it off. “More of me to go around now.”

Steve snorts, and that makes Bucky feel a little better. He feels even better when Steve checks his page number and closes the book, leaving it behind on the table.

*

“You goin’ out tonight?” Steve asks casually as they eat dinner.

Bucky thinks about getting washed, dressed up, scraping together his loose change, all for a chance at getting lucky with some dame he won’t want to see again. Soft skin, big smile. Nice tits, knowing him.

He watches Steve put his fork in his mouth, chewing his dinner in little bites. Light stubble on his jaw, the top button on his shirt undone. Nothing to see there.

“Nah,” he says finally, slowly. “It might rain.”

Steve arches an eyebrow at that poor excuse, but he can’t make a smart remark with his mouth full, so he just smiles.

*

There’s no rain, just a cool, wet breeze that comes in the kitchen window, bringing in a damp moth that immediately sets to beating itself to death on the lampshade. Bucky shifts his knees under the kitchen table and flips a page in the book he’s reading. It’s Steve’s, has his pencil thumbprints every couple of pages from times he tried to mix art and leisure reading. It’s not very exciting, but it’s something to do, now that he’s not going out. 

He makes it through another chapter before he has to give up due to restlessness. He closes Steve’s book carefully and looks up at the moth on the wall. It’s a few inches above the lampshade, plotting its next suicide mission into the light. It has a small, twitchy shadow.

Steve clears his throat and Bucky looks over at him. Steve’s in his pajamas, all scrubbed-clean pink and ready for bed. But Bucky can see he shaved, which Steve doesn’t do at night unless they’re going out for a date, and he forewent his button-up top even though it’s cold out. He’s just got on a white t-shirt, the one that doesn’t really fit him. It’s too big and the collar’s tugged out of shape. It doesn’t fit Bucky either. He doesn’t know where it came from.

“You want a drink?” Steve asks. 

Bucky pushes Steve’s book to the side of the table, grateful that Steve knows him enough to know he needs distracting. “Yeah.”

They drink the junk whiskey Bucky keeps above the sink in the nice tumblers Steve inherited from his mom. Steve puts his chin on his fist and looks out the window. The light from the lamp illuminates his collarbone poking out of his baggy shirt. When he leans back, the same light catches on his nipples, tight from the cold and poking against the shirt.

Steve catches him looking, but doesn’t hunch, like he might if it was someone else looking. He looks Bucky over too, his skinny bird’s chest and hard nipples on display, and then he smiles.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” he says slowly, and scratches his breastbone. He gets up, considers the swill whiskey he still has in his glass, and then pours it in with Bucky’s. Still leaning over, his shirt bagged out so Bucky can’t see his shape, Steve ducks and kisses the corner of Bucky’s mouth, tingly and sweet.

“You should come too,” he says as he walks away, putting his glass on the counter.

Bucky drinks the rest of his whiskey and the rest of Steve’s fast, sitting at the table with his knees spread so he has enough room down below for the surge of feeling Steve brought on. The moth is back to battering itself. If Bucky looks, he can see the light from the bedroom under the partly-closed door, hear Steve moving around, the creak of the bedsprings.

He rubs his free hand over his cock while he tips his glass back to get the dregs, and his belly feels so warm from the booze and the touch that he sighs. Then he gets up, puts his empty glass next to Steve’s and turns the lamp off to stop the moth from killing itself. When that’s done, he walks toward the bedroom’s light.

*

For reasons old and new, Steve has the bigger bed. Half the time it’s full of junk: books, crinkled paper, handkerchiefs when he’s sick. Sometimes it’s empty, and sometimes it has them both in it. 

Right now it has Steve in it, propped up on all the pillows he has, threadbare blankets pushed down in a U, the bottom at his belly. His smile is warm and expectant, his shirt all smoothed down.

Bucky takes his shirt off, lays it out on his made bed. He puts his pants beside it, neatly so he can wear them again. He dumps his undershirt on the floor, but keeps his shorts on, to keep his half-hard cock down. It’s not hiding it, not at all, if the track of Steve’s eyes is to be believed, but he has some sense of propriety this early in the game.

He sits on the mattress next to Steve's hip. Steve gets up on his elbows on his mess of pillows, so his chest is lifted and his belly dips in.

“You all right?” he asks, and for second Bucky forgets his lust.

“Yeah,” he says and means it. “I mean, it’s no fun. But you know me. I bounce back.”

“Yeah, I know you,” Steve says smartly. But his face softens a bit. “You sure?”

"I said yes,” Bucky says, a bit rough, even though he’s a little touched by Steve’s doggedness.

“Can I do anything?” 

Bucky touches the soft sleeve of Steve’s shirt. “You’re doing it,” he murmurs. “Now, let me look at you," even though he already is. 

Steve gets the cue though and shifts a little on the bed, so the shirt rides up enough for Bucky to see a peek of his side. Just a little, a tease. He cuts Bucky a shy look and sucks on his bottom lip because this is a seduction, after all. He inches down further and the shirt comes up a little higher. It must be rubbing on his nipples.

Bucky looks, and it seems like that's what's happening. He groans softly, his cock catching in the leg of his boxers as it swells.

Steve rubs his fingers over his own hip, where it's bare. 

"Feels nice," he says sweetly, and Bucky can’t help it. He flattens Steve to the bed, straddles his skinny hips and catches his surprised laughter in his mouth. Steve’s seductions may be played-up and obvious, but Bucky’s just a man and Steve knows how to catch him just as good as any girl.

He starts off holding Steve's shoulders, so he can keep Steve still for kisses. Long ones, wet and noisy, the kind that feel like drowning. Steve's not trying to get away, but it feels good to keep him where he is. And if he presses Steve down, Steve's breath hitches, his mouth going slack for a second.

When Steve has finally been thoroughly subdued, his mouth red from Bucky's stubble, Bucky moves on. He mouths Steve's ears and his throat, moving downward, but trying to take his time. Steve holds onto his hair and the sheets, but doesn't try to change his pace. Nudging the wide collar of the t-shirt aside, Bucky puts his tongue into the soft notch between Steve's collarbones. He can feel Steve breathing under him, deep and patient.

He kisses the fabric of the t-shirt. It smells like Steve and his good wash-job. He kisses around until he finds one of Steve's hard little nipples, and he kisses that too. First with his mouth closed, rubbing his lips over it so the bump traces the seam of his mouth. He presses hard, almost nuzzling, grunting when his cock pulls.

“Can I?” he gets out, his own breath coming back to heat his mouth.

"Whatever you want," Steve says, pushing his chest against Bucky's face. Bucky holds him still, his hand on the hot flat space beneath Steve's far armpit, and licks Steve's nipple.

It tastes more like soap and Steve than it smelled, but that taste fades as he licks more, letting his tongue make a good-sized wet patch. He lifts his head to look at it. It's dull grey-white at the edges, but the centre is a blurry pink. 

He tastes it again, trying to see if it tastes any different now that he's seen it, but he can't tell. He wants to know though. 

Steve wriggles a little under him and Bucky grabs at the folds in the shirt, first to stop him, and then to haul it up. Steve has to hitch his shoulders up so Bucky can wedge all the excess fabric into his armpits.

Then it's all laid out for him. Steve’s face is gentle-looking and flushed. The flush goes all the way down to the uneven collar of his shirt, blotchy, and re-emerges on the flat of his chest above his nipples. It’s lighter there, like he just spent a little too much time in the sun.

His nipples are hard and the colour of rose girls like, delicate pink. He has about four hairs between them, and a scant handful of freckles you almost need a magnifier to see since Steve's never actually out in the sun.

They're hard when Bucky brushes his thumbs over them, and the left one is damp. Steve sighs, running his nails over Bucky's sweaty elbow. He presses up a little when Bucky circles his thumbs.

"Feel good?" Bucky asks, breathless already. 

Steve nods, sucking his lip again. He pushes up again, shoving his chest – his _tits_ \- up for Bucky to play with. 

Steve tried to explain the feeling, once. Buzzing, he'd said. Not a lot, but some. More when Bucky used his mouth. It mostly felt good because Bucky liked it so much, he'd said, blushing at that, like that was the weird thing. Not the word _tits_ or Bucky’s deep abiding love for playing with them and sucking on them, but his want of Bucky’s want.

"Your nice, sweet little tits," Bucky says, drawing out the words to get his own buzz going. He cups his hands, Steve's nipples caught in the U of his thumbs. He pushes up as much as he can, gathering what little softness Steve has there and squeezing. "I love 'em."

"Yeah," Steve murmurs reaching up for the hair at the base of Bucky's neck. "You wanna suck 'em?"

"Shit, Steve." He squeezes again, trying to be gentle so Steve doesn't get red handprints on him. But Steve's nipples are so hard under his palms, it's driving him crazy. When he shifts to the side, his cock chafes on his boxers until it finds the slit and pokes out.

He groans and lifts one hand, fumbling his cock back into his boxers. It aches when he touches it and aches harder when he puts it back and takes his hand away. 

"Coulda kept it out," Steve says as Bucky levers himself down against Steve's left side. "I don't mind."

Bucky knows that, and he's not pretending like he's not hot for this. He's so into it he wants it to last. Keeping his shorts on will help him keep a little of his cool. He drapes his top thigh over both of Steve's, pinning him and giving himself a little extra room so it doesn't touch so much.

He slings his arm over Steve too, puts his palm back over Steve's nipple as he lowers his mouth to the other one.

He licks it full-on, dragging his tongue over it, before sucking it sharply into his mouth. He holds it there, pulled taut, for a second, before letting it go. He repeats the process, lick-drag-suck, so Steve will get as much sensation as he can. He flicks the other one with his thumb.

Steve cups his head, pulling on his hair gently. Bucky rides his breath for a few pulses before Steve presses his head down, just as gently as he pulled, and Bucky opens his mouth wider and sucks.

Steve doesn't have much there. Sometimes when he does a good month or two of push-ups or gains a few pounds, Bucky can feel a little extra padding on him, but it's been a lean couple months. So Steve's a smooth slope, broken up by the faint feeling of ribs and his hard little nipple. Bucky doesn't care though. Steve's said his tits are for Bucky, thick or thin. If they ever actually get any bigger, if Bucky can feed him enough, get him enough time to work out, Bucky won't love them any more than he already does.

Still, love or no love, Steve's pretty flat so it's harder for Bucky to latch onto him without using his teeth. The couple of times he's gotten leave to go to town from a girl, it was easy to snuggle his face into one of her breasts, and as long as he kept his nose clear enough to breathe, he could stay there almost until he blew. Here, he has to tip his chin to the side and he has to keep shifting around. His mouth makes noisy suckle sounds when he moves it. 

It feels good though, having a nipple in his mouth to play with, and each time he sucks, a big golden pulse of pleasure goes through him. Having Steve's other nipple in his hand is a big bonus.

From here, he can't really look up and see how Steve's doing - can only see the white curve of his far shoulder - but Steve's roughly mussing his hair and his breathing sounds happy. 

Bucky shifts, his mouth breaking off of Steve with a gasp, trying to get closer. His hip is settled into a groove in the mattress though, and all his hitch does is remind him of his cock. It feels like an elastic pulled tight.

He grimaces, his teeth pressing against Steve's pec, trying to ignore it. He almost wishes this didn't do it so much for him. It always ends so fast.

Steve seems to get his annoyance. His hand slides out of Bucky's hair to cup his shoulder. 

"You're out again," he murmurs and Bucky ducks his head. Sure enough, the tip of his cock is poking out of his shorts. It's red and wet. Just looking at it makes the feeling a hundred times worse, and his hips chug on their own accord, another couple of inches of his cock sliding into the air.

Bucky reaches down to tuck himself away again, but cupping his fingers around himself feels so electric he freezes. 

"Fuck," he groans into Steve's chest, eyes shut tight.

Steve tugs on his hair again, guiding him. "Just go," he croaks. "Do it."

Blindly, Bucky lets Steve pull him, his mouth open and dragging on skin until Steve's nipple catches on his tongue. Steve holds him there and he licks Steve's nipple hard, his fist pushing his shorts back as he starts to jerk off. He's rough about it, focusing on the wet tip. Squeezing there produces a different kind of pulse in him, dark and dirty.

His mouth on Steve is sloppy now, his mouth open and drooling while his tongue works on Steve's nipple. He occasionally sucks, but it's so wet his lips slide over Steve's pec, even with Steve holding him by the hair.

He wants to stop, hold off a little longer, but he can't. The seed was planted when Steve came out in that white shirt, and now it's blooming in his belly, summer-hot. He blows his load into his hand and over Steve's thigh, neck arched back into Steve's hand so he doesn't bite.

He's too gone to even moan. He just gasps as he finishes, fist locked around his dick. His body feels like pudding but his toes are still curled. A muscle in his calf aches.

Above him, Steve takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. His palm is hot on Bucky's nape, but gentle.

"You done?" he asks, and his voice is so warm Bucky jerks his cock a little, one more spurt of come trickling down his knuckles. Steve chuckles and Bucky manages to pry his sticky hand off himself, clumsily feeling Steve's crotch.

Steve's got a pretty good stiffy going, but when Bucky cups it, Steve stifles his arch. He pulls Bucky's hand up, to rest on his chest, and holds it still.

"Later," he says. "You can –you’re gonna get me later. Just finish up now."

 _Finish up?_ Bucky thinks muzzily, wondering if Steve missed the palmful of jizz and the show that came before it, and if he did then Steve’s out of luck for a while. But his brain is clouding with lassitude, so he stays easy when Steve jostles him around.

Turns out Steve is just turning them both more on their sides. He's supporting Bucky with the arm under him, keeping him in position and _oh,_ Bucky thinks, opening his mouth. _Thank you_.

The angle’s still not great, wouldn’t be unless Steve’s body changed entirely. But lying close like this, and without his dick to worry about, Bucky can suckle sleepily. He can still feel the pulsing inside him, but it's tender now, comforting instead of sexy. Steve thumbing his cheek slowly helps. He eventually pulls away to breathe, but Steve doesn't stop touching him, doesn’t let him go too far.

His hand holding the bunched-up shirt that doesn’t fit either of them, Bucky falls asleep with Steve’s swollen nipple caught in the shadow of his mouth.


End file.
